Sherlock and Jo
by coffeeasfood
Summary: Karen Briggs is the new Dr Joanna Watson in the new BBC mini-series 'Sherlock'. Here she talks us through her experiences with the cast, the crew, and eventually the madness that comes along with being the second lead in a show that takes the world by storm.
1. Chapter 1

It was the summer of 2008…

Haven't you always wanted to start a story like that? I guess authors might say that it sets the scene right away. Gives the reader something to cling to. It seems funny to start off this like a "proper book", but I didn't know how else to begin it. Would it sound even sillier if I said it was a Saturday afternoon? Probably. But it was. I remember it so clearly…

…

"That was delicious…" I said, leaning back in my chair and patting my stomach. "Complements to Martin!"

Martin looked up at the sound of his name and gave me a wave with his BBQ tongs. Like a good sport, he was wearing the silly apron I'd brought along as a joke. One of those daft ones that has an almost naked woman on it, with the head missing. So it looks like the person wearing it is naked? You know the ones? Anyway, he'd put it on, laughing, and did a little flounce around the garden. Luckily, I'd know him and his partner Amanda for years. They know what I'm like.

"Do you want anything else?" Amanda asked, leaning over with a bottle of rosé to re-fill my glass.

"No thanks, I'm pretty full now. I love a barbeque!" I grabbed a napkin and dabbed around my mouth, just to check for any stray ketchup smudges.

"Cool. Then I'll leave you with the bottle and go and get the pie out the fridge."

"What sort of pie is it?" I asked, taking the wine bottle from her.

"Obviously, chocolate."

"Oh yes!"

Amanda chuckled and stood up. I watched, wine glass in hand, as she briefly said something to Martin by the grill, then headed into the house through the wide-open sliding doors.

I sat back and enjoyed the feeling of the warm breeze on my head as I sipped my wine. My eyes slipped closed behind my sunglasses and I listened to the sounds around me. There was a dog barking somewhere, perhaps in the next street, and a distant rumble of traffic reminded me, that even in the leafiest parts of London, you're never far away from the action. Or the traffic.

My eyes opened again as I heard footsteps coming towards me across the patio.

"How was the steak?" Martin asked, pulling back Amanda's vacated chair and sitting down with his own plate laden with chicken legs, sausages and salad.

"Oh, really good thanks! I was saying to Amanda that I love a barbeque. Living in flat, I don't really get the chance to have them. You're lucky to have a garden for it."

Martin briefly looked around their small but neat garden. "Yeah, it's nice to have. But god, you pay a premium for it in London."

I nodded, "I bet you do."

We both turned at the sound of a window opening, to see Amanda waving a spoon at us. "Do you all want some?!"

"Yes!" we called back, in unison.

"I'm glad it's chocolate." I said, looking around for some topic of conversation. "That's the only desert I like, really."

He nodded, "Yeah, I think Amanda said you're fussy about deserts!"

"Hey!" I said, laughing.

He held his knife and fork up in the air, in a gesture of surrender. "Oh no, I'm right with you on that one! Chocolate is the only way to go!"

I smiled and sipped on my wine. I liked Martin a lot, but he sort of came as an added extra. I was really Amanda's friend, having known her since childhood. But Martin had been on the scene almost 10 years now, and we'd got to know each over that time, but we'd rarely had any time to talk, just the two of us. At first, when it did happen, it always felt strange, but I reasoned that anyone Amanda liked, I was bound to like as well, particularly as Amanda and I are so very similar, personality-wise.

I remember when I first met him, in the back of a cab, after a Christmas party that Amanda and I had attended together. I can't remember how, or why, but I remember Amanda calling Martin to come and pick us up. I remember wondering why this guy would be bothering? But sure enough, he came about 20 minutes later, in a cab, to escort us back to Amanda's flat. What a gent.

Gradually, his name became more and more common in Amanda and mine's conversations… Then they were dating… Then they moved in together. They have a dog, and a house, but no sign of getting married. Each to their own, I guess. If it were me, I'd be marching him down the aisle… But unfortunately, there's no one on my own horizon right now. I'm doing the single thing for the time being.

As I sipped my wine, and Martin plowed on with his plateful, I could just hear the sound of my phone starting to ring in my bag.

"Oh, that's me!" I say, slightly startled. No one ever rings my mobile on a Saturday afternoon. I put my wine down and started to rummage in my bag on the grass at my feet. Pulling it out, I swiped a finger across the screen. "Hello?"

"Hi Karen, it's Harriet, from ABC Associates?"

My agent. "Oh… Hey Harriet. How's things?"

I push my chair back from the table, mouth an "excuse me" to Martin and walk away across the garden for a little privacy.

"Good, good. Listen. Sorry to disturb you on a Saturday afternoon. But I'm just looking at my email, and I've got something you're gonna like."

I cross my fingers. A job, a job, job! Please?

"What that then?" I ask, trying to sound cool and unflappable.

"Did you see Moffat – you know, they guy who does Dr Who? – is doing a re-telling of Sherlock Holmes?"

I shook my head, I didn't know that. Then I remember that Harriet can't see me.

"Umm… Yeah… I think I heard something about it."

"Good. Well, they are going ahead with at least 3 episodes. He's teamed up with Mark Gatiss apparently, so we're talking big BBC players now. They've cast that Benedict Cumberbatch guy as Holmes and they are after a Watson… And they want to meet you!"

"Wow! But… Watson is a man. That's… odd."

I could almost hear Harriet shrug on the other end of the line. "Well I hear they want to shake it up a bit… Turn Holmes into a modern man, or something… Are you interested?"

"Sure! Absolutely! When do they want to see me?"

I can hear Harriet clicking away on her computer. "Monday afternoon, 2pm, Bridgewater Studios on the South Bank."

"I know it."

"Great. Listen, I'm emailing you over a scene to practise right now. Let me know how it goes! Gotta shoot."

"Okay, listen Harriet, thanks!"

"No problem. Bye for now!"

She hung up, and I held the phone to my ear for a moment longer. A BBC adaption of Sherlock Holmes as a modern man? That sounded cool, and a big part of me maybe!

That being said, I couldn't help but think that Dr Watson as a woman might be a bit odd. But who was I to argue with the Moffat-powerhouse? Particularly if it meant work for me!

I'd also have to google Benedict Cumberbatch. I knew of him a bit, and could sort of picture him. Tall, skinny, fantastic cheekbones. He'd been in a great bio of Stephen Hawking not so long ago.

I went back to the table, where Amanda had now returned and was handing out plates of pie.

"Guess what?! I've got an audition!"

Both of them beamed at me. As they were both actors themselves, they understood that auditions are both scary and fantastic news.

"That's great!" Amanda said, passing me a plate. "What's the part?"

"A new BBC version of Sherlock Holmes. Moffat, the Dr Who guy, is involved. And Mark Gatiss. So I guess they are throwing money at it. They want to see me for Dr Watson!"

Martin nodded thoughtfully. "A female Watson… That could be interesting? Have they got anyone for Holmes yet?"

I nod, my mouth full of chocolate pie. "Benedict Cumberbatch?"

"Oh!" Martin said, his eyebrows raising. "I know Ben. Nice guy. Great actor. Wow!"

I beamed round the table at my friends and dove back into my pie. My mind already whizzing a mile a minute. I almost couldn't wait to go and check my emails to start preparing this scene for Monday.


	2. Chapter 2

I hurried into Bridgewater Studios, with a minute or two to spare. There had been problems on the underground, and a journey that I'd thought might take 20 minutes had in fact taken me the better part of an hour. There went my quiet time sitting outside having a final script read-through. Damn it.

The receptionist looked up at me at the sound of the automatic door.

"Good afternoon. How can I help?"

"Hi." I responded, still slightly out of breathe. "I have an appointment with Steven Moffat at 2pm?"

"Ah, let me just see if they are ready for you."

I leant against the counter, breathing deeply, trying to catch my breath, while the receptionist made a phone call.

"Mr Moffat? I have your 2 O'Clock here? Of course."

She put the phone down and looked up at me with a smile. "They're waiting for you. First floor, 3rd door on the right."

"Thank you."

Still attempting to breathe deeply I headed for the stairs and went up. To my slight surprise, all the offices along the corridor were walled with that frosted glass, which made everyone inside look like slightly creepy spirit people. When I got to the third door, I paused and looked through the glass. There were at least 4 black shapes inside. Oh god.

I knocked on the door, and upon hearing a man's voice call out "Come in!" I pushed the door open and went in.

Right away, there were familiar faces. I recognised Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss straight away, having seen them do various interviews and things on the telly before. I knew Mark Gatiss did some acting work as well, but I couldn't put my finger on anything I'd seen him in.

Then I took a look at the third man in the room. He didn't immediately look at me, he was engaged in conversation with an older woman sat on his right, who I didn't recognise at all. But when he heard the door shut behind me, he looked up and smiled. It was Benedict Cumberbatch who I'd seen in various things before. But he looked different to the last thing I'd seen of his. His hair was a different colour for one, today an almost gingery auburn. And his outfit was scruffy… No, not scruffy, but casual. Jeans and a simple white t-shirt. Normally when I see him, he looks super put together and posh-boy-Brit.

"Hello." I say, smiling around the room at the four expectant faces before me. That's a little trick I learnt at drama school. Always try and be the first one to speak in an audition, then you, psychologically at least, always lead the discussion. It always sounded like bollocks to me, but the strategy hasn't failed me yet.

Mark stood up and leaned over the table, extending a hand for me to shake.

"Hello Karen. I'm Mark, this is Steven, Sue and Ben." Each of them shake my hand in turn, and I make sure I grip back firmly, and look them in the eye as we exchange pleasantries. To my surprise, the older woman Sue, has the toughest hand shake.

"Please, take a seat."

Mark comes around to my side of the desk and pulls over an armchair for me to sit in. This seems strange at first, as the others are all sitting on normal desk-style chairs. But then I remember, feeling stupid, that the scene I've had to prepare involve me sitting down in an armchair. I'm suddenly thankful I kept my mouth shut.

"Well." Says Mark, taking the lead, "We've been very keen to meet with you Karen." Out of the corner of my eye, I see Cumberbatch nod, as he looks down at the papers in his hand. I wonder what he is looking at, until I remember that his Sherlock Holmes character is in the scene I'm about to read. Of course he is. Holmes and Watson are a double act. Everyone knows that.

"I'm thankful for the opportunity Mr Gatiss."

"Oh, please! Call me Mark. And you're welcome. Shall we start with the scene? Ben? Sue? Would you read Mrs Hudson?"

He speaks. "Of course." Then he and Sue stand up and bring their chairs over by mine.

I turn my brain over to the scene, watching as Steven silently reaches over and turns on a camera mounted on a tripod, pointing right at me.

"Ah! Yes! A case! Finally! Mrs Hudson? I'll be late back. I'll need something to eat."

I am momentarily startled as Cumberbatch's deep voice suddenly fills the room, cold and snappy. Holmes.

"I'm your landlady, dear. Not your housekeeper." Sue pipes up as Mrs Hudson.

"Something cold will do. Joanna? You stay here, put your feet up. Have a cup of tea."

With that, Cumberbatch stood up and hurried out of shot, leaving Sue and I alone together.

"It's alright dear, I'll get you a cup of tea. You sit there and rest your leg."

Here we go…

"Damn my leg! Sorry, I'm so sorry. Yes, a cup of tea would be lovely thank you."

Cumberbatch came back into shot and looked down at me with a quizzical smirk.

"You're an army doctor."

"That's right."

"Seen some nasty things I bet. Bloody deaths and the like."

"Oh yes. Too much. Far too much."

"Would you like to see some more?"

"Oh god, yes."

With that, I stood, and following Cumberbatch, limped out of shot. No one had told me to put on a limp, but without it, the "damn my leg" line made no sense…

"Cut!" That was Mark.

"Thank you Karen! That was lovely! Please, sit back down and we'll talk."

Talk? This was rather new. Normally after doing a scene it was all "thank you so much for coming in. We'll call you." Sitting down to talk was very different.

"So…" Mark began, "I personally loved your angry delivery of "damn my leg!" Tell me why you feel she'd snap at poor Mrs Hudson like that?"

This feels like a very strange job interview…


End file.
